100%: the Story of a Patriot eBook

“No, you won’t—­not if you take
this job,” said McGivney. “We can
fix that. A man like you, who has special abilities,
is too precious to be wasted.” Peter decided
forthwith that he would accept the proposition.
It was much more sensible to spend a few days in jail
than to spend a few years in the trenches, and maybe
the balance of eternity under the sod of France.

Matters were quickly arranged. Peter took off
his good clothes, and dressed himself as became a
workingman, and went into the eating-room where Donald
Gordon, the Quaker boy, always got his lunch.
Peter was quite sure that Donald would be one of the
leading agitators against the draft, and in this he
was not mistaken.

Donald was decidedly uncordial in his welcoming of
Peter; without saying a word the young Quaker made
Peter aware that he was a renegade, a coward who had
“thrown down” the Goober defense.
But Peter was patient and tactful; he did not try
to defend himself, nor did he ask any questions about
Donald and Donald’s activities. He simply
announced that he had been studying the subject of
militarism, and had come to a definite point of view.
He was a Socialist and an Internationalist; he considered
America’s entry into the war a crime, and he
was willing to do his part in agitating against it.
He was going to take his stand as a conscientious
objector; they might send him to jail if they pleased,
or even stand him against a wall and shoot him, but
they would never get him to put on a uniform.

It was impossible for Donald Gordon to hold out against
a man who talked like that; a man who looked him in
the eye and expressed his convictions so simply and
honestly. And that evening Peter went to a meeting
of Local American City of the Socialist Party, and
renewed his acquaintance with all the comrades.
He didn’t make a speech or do anything conspicuous,
but simply got into the spirit of things; and next
day he managed to meet some of the members, and whenever
and wherever he was asked, he expressed his convictions
as a conscientious objector. So before a week
had passed Peter found that he was being tolerated,
that nobody was going to denounce him as a traitor,
or kick him out of the room.

At the next weekly meeting of Local American City,
Peter ventured to say a few words. It was a red-hot
meeting, at which the war and the draft were the sole
subjects of discussion. There were some Germans
in the local, some Irishmen, and one or two Hindoos;
they, naturally, were all ardent pacifists. Also
there were agitators of what was coming to be called
the “left wing”; the group within the
party who considered it too conservative, and were
always clamoring for more radical declarations, for
“mass action” and general strikes and
appeals to the proletariat to rise forthwith and break
their chains. These were days of great events;
the Russian revolution had electrified the world,
and these comrades of the “left wing” felt
themselves lifted upon pinions of hope.